


Now I've got double

by acidpop25



Series: Love Times Two [2]
Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel, Marvel 3490, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Clubbing, Dancing, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Siblings, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidpop25/pseuds/acidpop25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve tries to figure out his relationships, disaster nearly strikes, and there is dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I've got double

Steve is awake with the sun, but Tasha is still fast asleep beside him, lying on her back with most of the sheets tangled around her legs and her hair spread out on the pillow. The early morning light glints off the grey at her temples– Steve is oddly charmed by her refusal to dye it. Tasha looks her age in the best way possible with those little traces of silver and the smile lines at the corners of her eyes and the little crease in her brow from hours frowning over things in the workshop. Steve doesn’t much care for the sort of woman who seems to be in fashion now, the ones who diet themselves down to twigs and do all sorts of things to their faces to try and look forever in their twenties. Tasha is fit and athlete-trim, but she’s built for curves and Steve’s glad of it. He likes the softness of her hips over the bone when they’re pressed close.

He watches her a minute more before getting up, though not without a twinge of regret. Tasha doesn’t stir when he leaves the bed and gets dressed– when she or her brother sleep, they sleep late.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Tony is slumped over the coffeemaker while it percolates, his voice a little raspy. Steve raises his eyebrows.

“What are you doing up?”

“Haven’t been to bed yet.”

Steve tsks at him and commandeers the toaster. “And you’re making more coffee, so I assume you’re not planning to.”

“Coffee’s for you.” Tony lifts his head and smiles– he looks tired, though not as bad as he sometimes gets. “I know you’re always up around now. Thought I might convince you to do your morning cardio in bed with me.”

“Mm, is that what this is about.” Steve snags an arm around Tony’s waist and draws him in for a kiss. Tony sways into it, which is probably as much exhaustion as anything else. Steve nips at his bottom lip and then gently nudges him upright. “No offense, but I don’t think I trust you not to fall asleep in the middle, right now. Go get some rest, Tony.”

Tony relents after only a cursory protest– he must really be tired– and Steve has his breakfast and then heads out for his morning run to get ready for the day and clear his head.

Steve still doesn’t know _what_ he’s doing with Tony and Tasha, exactly. They haven’t talked about it, and there hasn’t been a repeat of the threesome since it happened. One or the other keeps ending up in bed with him, but it’s not like– he’s not _dating_ them, he doesn’t think. Nothing has changed, except for the sex– they still fight crime together, and the twins still work too much and party too hard, are still sarcastic and acerbic and bad at letting anyone in. Besides, a few uncomfortable internet searches have assured Steve that this isn’t a normal future thing no one told him about. At least outside of pornography.

He’ll probably have to just _ask_ them. Soon.

\---

Steve is still in the process of trying to figure out how to approach the twins when the Avengers get called in to deal with a half-mad but wildly powerful telepath. Those two traits are probably related– telepaths are seldom the most stable people, Steve has heard _stories_. The scene is chaos– Black Widow is creeping closer by stealth and Thor is pushing in by divine brute force, but everybody else is having a hell of a time getting near enough to have even a chance of bringing him down. Hawkeye’s arrows fall useless to the ground, and Steve can’t get himself or his shield past the psychic defenses. Tony and Tasha are circling, looking for an opening but finding nothing. Steve is mostly trying to do anything but think about Black Widow and Thor’s positions and trusting his team to get the job done.

“I think I found a soft spot in the shielding,” Tasha’s voice says over the comms. “In position and waiting on your go, Cap.”

“Take your shot, Iron Woman.”

She changes her angle and dives in a streak of red and extends her hands to blast her way in, but her move draws the telepath’s attention, and suddenly instead of diving Tasha is falling at breakneck speed toward the wrecked concrete, out of control. It’s the distraction Natasha needs to press her advantage and knock their opponent out, but all Steve can do is watch Tasha fall, watch Tony hurtling toward her...

He breaks her fall, but she stays limp in his arms, and as soon as they touch down Steve hears him barking overrides to her suit and pulling the armor from her head and neck. The arc reactor at the base of Tasha’s skull is a smouldering, dark mess, and Tony claws it out and produces a spare from the recesses of his armor, whispering fervent pleas of _hang in there, Tasha, come on, stay with me_ as he jams it into the socket.

The Iron Woman suit buzzes to life once Tony replaces the plate that covers Tasha’s neck, but it takes an agonizingly long time for Tasha to stir and drag herself into a sitting position, looking ashen but alive.

“Taking Iron Woman back to base,” Tony says, and doesn’t wait for Steve’s okay to scoop his sister into his arms and take off. Steve swallows hard and forces himself to focus.

“Avengers, status.”

“Subject subdued,” Natasha replies crisply, all business. “Hawkeye called the X-Men to take him into custody. I’m uninjured.”

“Everyone else?”

A chorus of affirmatives– they’ve all been banged around, but Tasha seems to have been the only one seriously damaged. It’s something, at least.

“Thor, stay here and wait for the X-Men, make sure he stays down. Call us if there’s trouble; everyone else, back to base. Debrief at 1400 hours.”

\---

“Hey, Steve.” Tasha is sitting up in the infirmary bed when he walks in, looking more or less herself again save for the wires trailing out of her arc reactor to Tony’s tablet computer. Diagnostics, probably, Steve assumes. Tony looks worse than she does.

“Tasha.” Steve clasps her hand, belatedly realizing he’s still wearing his gloves. She shows no intention of letting him go, though. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be okay,” she says, then frowns. “No, I _am_ okay. Tony got to me in time.”

“It looks that way,” Tony agrees. “Your vitals are normal.”

“Of course they are. You were there to look out for me.”

Tony’s face seizes up a little bit, and it takes Steve a moment to realize that he’s trying not to cry. He looks away politely, focusing on Tasha instead.

“You scared us out there.”

“Not my idea of a good time, either.”

Steve nods and pushes back his cowl with his free hand. “We’re debriefing at two if you’re up to it, but don’t feel obligated. The most important thing is that you’re well, so get some rest.”

Tasha smiles faintly. “Aye aye, Captain,” she replies, letting go of his hand to toss him a lazy salute.

Steve repays it with a kiss.

\---

Tasha doesn’t show up for the debriefing meeting, but after it’s over Steve finds that she and Tony have relocated themselves to Steve’s room. Tony is sitting against the headboard; Tasha is lying on her stomach, arc reactor exposed and glowing its normal blue. Her hair had been singed off in the back from the destruction of the old reactor, and the new one is clearly visible now. He can see the light from Tony’s, too, glowing behind his tee-shirt.

“I think,” Steve says, “that now might be a good time to tell me the story behind those things.”

The twins exchange glances. By unspoken agreement, Tony is the one who answers.

“You know how my file says Tasha and I were captured in Afghanistan?”

“And is remarkably mum on the details.”

Tony nods. “Right, well. Even before the torturing and the being held to build missiles for terrorists, we almost died out there. We weren’t in the worst of the explosion, but there was shrapnel. I have some buried in my chest. Inoperable. The arc reactor powers an electromagnet that keeps it in place and out of my heart. It powers the suit too, of course.”

Steve is silent for a long moment, digesting this. “So it’s– those things are what’s keeping you alive.”

Tony nods, and the full weight of what happened out in the field today settles on Steve like lead. Tasha hadn’t just nearly fallen, she had nearly _died_ , and if where her arc reactor is set is anywhere to judge by–

“It’s protecting my spine and my brain stem,” Tasha says as if reading his thoughts, and sits up. “Stupid of them, right, a captured genius isn’t very useful if her vital functions get sliced in half. Terrorists these days, I ask of you, where is their strategy?”

Steve frowns; Tasha’s attempt to lighten the mood isn’t really working, not now that he knows how close she had come out there today. How easy it really would be for any villain to take either of them out with a lucky strike.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony murmurs, interrupting Steve’s thoughts, “she’s okay. We’re okay. See, this is why we don’t discuss them with people, they’ll go thinking we’re fragile.”

 _But you are_ , Steve thinks. “I don’t–”

“Also the whole major trauma thing is really not enjoyable to relive, so if we can just never talk about this again, that would be wonderful. Swell, as you’d say,” Tasha interjects. She runs her hand self-consciously through the short, frizzled hair at the back of her head. “I’m gonna need a haircut.”

Steve huffs out an attempt at a laugh and lets her have the subject change. “You’ll look pretty with short hair.”

“You think?”

“It looks good on Tony, and he’s your twin. It’ll suit you.”

Tasha wrinkles her nose. “I’m not cutting it _that_ short.”

“Do you have a problem with my hair, sis?”

“On you, no. On me, yes.”

“Fits under the suit better.”

“Allow a girl her vanity. Am I right, Steve?”

“Of course.”

Tasha cocks an eyebrow. “Are you always gonna be this agreeable when I nearly die? I might have to do it more often.”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that.”

She looks faintly chagrined. “Right. Sorry. C’mere.” Tasha motions him over and Steve goes, lets her wrap her arms around him and nuzzle her face into his neck by way of apology. Tony is watching them both, his expression hard to read.

“After dinner,” he finally says, “you want to spend the night with us, Steve?”

He looks down at Tasha. “Are you up for that?”

A shrug is all the answer he gets, and Steve pets her back. “All right,” he agrees, “we all could probably use it.”

\---

“Where _are_ you going?” Steve asks. ‘Dressed like that’ goes unsaid– Tasha has on a thick choker that hides most of her arc reactor, but an awful lot of the rest of her tanned skin is on display. Steve is hard-pressed not to look down her filmy... blouse, he supposes. Natasha is with her, only a little more covered, and Tony’s clothes are awfully tight. He looks amused.

“Out dancing, Cap. I’d ask if you wanted to come, but you’d be eaten alive.”

He raises his eyebrows at them pointedly. “By whom, exactly?”

Natasha laughs. “We could bring Pepper if he wants to join us. She’ll protect his virtue.”

“You’re brilliant,” Tony tells her over Steve’s protests that he doesn’t like where this is going, but Natasha is flipping open her mobile phone and the twins herd him to his bedroom and manhandle him into clothes that feel like they don’t fit right. By the time they’re done, Pepper has arrived and is chatting with Natasha in the hall.

“I’ll bring you back if it’s too much,” Pepper promises as Tony leads them out to the car, which isn’t really reassuring. The modern idea of “dancing” is frankly still a little shocking to Steve’s sensibilities, and the music at the clubs is poundingly loud whenever he passes by one. He can’t help but be morbidly curious, though– he knows this kind of thing is how the twins blow off steam, and after the week they’ve had they probably could use it.

Tony installs Steve in a seat with Pepper and a drink, then departs into the press of the crowd on the dance floor. He’s swallowed by the mass of people in short order, but the two women are still visible. They’re dancing with each other rather than any of the men whose attention they’ve drawn, and Steve feels like he should be drunk for this kind of thing. Alcohol doesn’t really affect him, though.

“Shocking a national icon,” Pepper tsks, “I keep telling them that this is why they can’t have nice things.”

“They’ve got plenty of nice things. And it wouldn’t be the first time.”

She looks faintly amused. “I got that impression, yes.”

Steve’s cheeks heat. “I, uh. I didn’t mean, it’s not–”

“Steve,” she interrupts before he can dig a deeper hole, “relax. They wouldn’t pay me so much if I couldn’t keep a secret, and anyway I think you’re good for them.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“No?” Pepper smiles at him over the rim of her glass. “Well, then you better go dance with your girl before someone else takes her.”

Steve darts another glance in Tasha’s direction. “I can’t, uh. Dance like... like that.”

Pepper laughs, but kindly. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to teach you. Go on.”

Tasha greets him with a grin when Steve approaches. “Did Pep do my dirty work for me and convince you to dance?”

“Something like that,” he agrees, and Tasha fits her hands to his hips and pulls him right up against her. She’s a good four inches taller than usual in her heels, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Her eyes are bright.

“Relax, just move. No one’s paying attention to you but me.”

“Not totally true,” comes Tony’s voice– he’s reappeared and claimed Natasha as his dancing partner– “but I’m not judging.” He and Tasha exchange glances, and Steve tries not to think about how wildly inappropriate it feels to be pressed to Tasha like this in public, her hips right against his. It’s practically like making love through their clothes, and his body certainly reacts to it like foreplay– not that she seems to have any complaints about it.

“Tony would be right where I am now if Pep wouldn’t kill him for causing tabloid scandals,” Tasha murmurs in Steve’s ear. “I bet he’d like it if you humored him in private sometime, though.”

“I humor him in private all the time,” Steve retorts, and Tasha chuckles and kisses his cheek.

“It that what we’re calling it?” she asks rhetorically. “Better do some of it when we get home, then. He can have you tonight, I don’t mind. It’s what vibrators are for.”

“Tasha!”

She smirks. “You’re so easy to scandalize, Steve.”

“My girl is half-dressed and doing frankly obscene things with her hips in public, I’m already plenty scandalized.” He winces when he realizes what he just said, but Tasha either doesn’t notice the slip or decides to let it slide.

“I’ll take you swing dancing some time to make up for it. Come on, I want a drink.”

\---

“I really don’t understand why you can be seen dancing like that, but it becomes a scandal if it’s with a man,” Steve says, and Tony smiles wryly.

“There’s different clubs for grinding with men. But yeah, just because it’s not the forties anymore doesn’t mean things are perfect.” Tony tugs his shirt over his head and adds, “Not that I’m exactly noted for caring what people think, but Pepper seems to think it would do awful things to Stark Industries’ stocks.”

“Like you aren’t already richer than God,” Steve replies, “now come here.”

“I did have fun watching you and Tasha all over each other though,” Tony says, climbing into bed and settling astride Steve’s hips. “You two make a hot couple.”

“I hear she has great genetics,” he answers with a hint of a smile, arching up a bit against Tony, “but you seem to be the one I’m in bed with right now.”

“Yeah.” Tony leans down and traces his hands down Steve’s broad chest. “What’s your poison, soldier?”

“Get undressed and surprise me.”

Tony gives a delighted laugh and strips off the rest of his clothes, then drags Steve’s underwear off as well and kisses him long and filthy. “You’re not as clean-cut as you’d have us believe,” Tony murmurs against his mouth, pausing to worry Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth. “Turn over for me.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Steve teases as he does, and Tony’s lips quirk.

“We should try that sometime,” he muses, and Steve smiles at him over his shoulder. Tony takes a moment to admire the expanse of Steve’s muscled back before he lets himself touch, trailing kisses down the dip of Steve’s spine and squeezing his perfect ass. He lingers at the small of Steve’s back with teasing little bites and kisses until he pulls a frustrated sound from Steve, then dips his head to lick at Steve’s hole.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Steve chokes out, as if it isn’t obvious. Tony doesn’t bother to answer, just teases at the ring of muscle and then presses his tongue in. Steve groans and curses, hips pushing back even though his brain can’t wrap itself around what Tony is doing with his mouth.

“Fuck,” Steve pants, “ _Tony_ , this is _filthy_.”

Tony chuckles against him, a damp gust of breath that makes Steve squirm. Tony has proven several times over that he can reduce Steve to a quivering pile of nerve endings with his mouth, but never like _this_. It’s strange and dirty and amazing; soon Steve is shaking with want, and when Tony works a finger into him to rub at his prostate Steve is done for. He collapses in a sticky, sweaty pile on the bed, chest heaving, and Tony wipes his mouth, kisses Steve’s shoulder, and retreats to the bathroom.

When he comes back, Tony smells of toothpaste. Steve turns over and pulls Tony in close for a kiss and lets Tony rut against him until he comes all over Steve’s stomach.

“You’re even kinkier than your sister, and she likes being tied up,” Steve remarks. Tony laughs.

“Bondage is the tamest kink there is, and if that’s the only one you know about I bet she’s just trying not to scare you off.” Tony pats Steve’s shoulder. “Go get cleaned up.”

\---

The twins are in their workshop, both of them bent over a plain steel-colored version of the Iron Man gauntlet. It’s half disassembled, and they’re both holding pliers.

“New prototype?” Steve asks, looking over Tony’s shoulder. They nod absently.

“We’re tweaking the repulsors,” Tasha offers by way of explanation. “What brings you to our lair? It’s not a mealtime.”

“I just wanted to talk to you both. But if I’m interrupting...”

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” Tony says, finally turning to look at him. “Find a seat. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve just been thinking about this. Us,” he says with a vague motion between the three of them, perching on one of the workbench stools and inwardly steeling himself. “I know neither of you usually goes steady with anyone, and I don’t know how it works with three of us, but I want– I want you to be my girl and, er, my guy I suppose.”

“We would say girlfriend and boyfriend,” Tasha supplies gently. Her eyes look soft, somehow, in a way Steve hasn’t really seen before. Tony cocks his head at Steve.

“You want us to wear your pin, huh,” he says, and Steve blushes.

“I don’t have one anymore. But, uh, yes.”

“We could make you one.” Tasha is smiling at him. “Well, two.”

Steve relaxes and smiles back at them. “I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”


End file.
